


Refractory

by toomanysunkenships



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, M/M, Morally ambiguous behavior, Sixth year AU, angsty, author is sorry, follow the marauders like a map, just angst and nonsense, more tags to come, secrets and lies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-01-05 20:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12196854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toomanysunkenships/pseuds/toomanysunkenships
Summary: Refractory period- where after intense stimulation the body needs a break.Draco Malfoy- a cataclysm in whiteHarry Potter- you'd never seen an orphan more in need





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> One day I'll actually finish a fic. Let's have hope this one is it, cause I love this idea.

Harry laid his head against his pillow and clutched his blanket to his face. He was feeling a million emotions at once, most of them contradictory. He was angry, so angry. But he wanted to go back. He was embarrassed and upset. But he wanted to feel it all over again, to be so close to someone so bright.  
Draco Malfoy was a destructive force. Harry couldn't pretend he didn't know that, that he hadn't always known that. Draco was an actor and a chameleon. But, oh, wasn't the fire he caused such a beautiful nightmare?

_ Harry plunged into the water and took a large breath. He looked down at himself and saw that he had grown a sort of flipper, a fin like apparatus. And he could breathe water. A totally normal thing for a human boy to be able to do. _

_ The murky water of the Black Lake surrounded him. Even with the effects of the gillyweed, seeing things clearly was difficult. He wondered how it had gotten this way. He had to stop himself once he got a bit too sidetracked with the horror of mermaid poop.  _

_ Mermaids. That’s right, he didn’t have time to float and contemplate pollution. He had to save his “treasure”, whatever it was. Dobby had been rather tight lipped about the whole thing, and what little Harry did understand was broken up by long bouts of Dobby trying to beat himself with Harry’s Firebolt. _

_ Harry pushed ahead. He was never much of a swimmer, since the Dursleys would never allow him lessons, but he managed to at least move in a forward direction. He wished he hadn’t dismissed Cedric’s advice for so long, maybe if he hadn’t he could have spent the weeks that passed by learning how to go faster than this. A grindylow grabbed at Harry’s toes and he shivered. Grindylows had disgusted him from the moment he learned of their existence. He kicked his feet out and the creature swam away. _

There wasn’t really any excuse to keep going with this. In fact, there were dozens of reasons that Harry knew would tell him not to if he focused on them for too long. He knew what Hermione, what Ron, would say if they knew how reckless he had been and still he couldn’t find it in himself to mind.

_ It seemed odd to him how little obstacles there were on the way to these treasures- hostages, really. But maybe that meant there was something terrible ahead. Harry had never seen a mermaid, but he very much doubted they would be of the Hans Christian Andersen variety. Or maybe the point of this wasn’t to fight anything. The tasks were meant to test courage, resourcefulness, intelligence, and magical ability. He figured stealing an egg from a dragon with a broom counted as resourcefulness and bravery. A real Gryffindor sort of thing to do. Harry pushed a pile of seaweed - could there be seaweed in a lake? He didn’t know- out of his way as he came upon the bodies. _

He pushed his hair out of his eyes and sighed. How could he have let himself end up this way? What enabled a stupid  **cup** , a cup, to tell him what to feel? He pressed his face tightly against his pillow and let out a muffled yell. It was never the cup, and he knew it.

_ He didn’t know what else to call them. Obviously, they weren’t  _ **_dead_ ** _ , because Harry did have some faith that Dumbledore wouldn’t let anyone die. Not ever, but especially not when the grounds were covered with reporters and Ministry officials. They looked like corpses. Harry looked at Hermione. Her eyes were closed and she didn’t appear to be breathing, though Harry was too far away to actually be able to discern this for certain. All he knew was that no air bubbles floated from her nose, and her mouth was shut. Her hair floated above her head and twisted with the gentle waves of the water. Harry had never given thought to water moving below the surface. He scanned the group, trying to see who treasured who. He guessed the small blonde girl on the end was Fleur’s- though he wondered why she was at Hogwarts to be stolen at all. This girl couldn’t have been more than a second year. He saw the pale face of Cho, for Cedric, obviously. He headed towards Hermione. A mermaid swam in front of him and crossed a spear to block his way. Harry blinked in confusion. _

He wanted so very badly to blame something else, but Harry knew that he couldn’t. Around him he could hear the sounds of Gryffindor waking up. To stay or to go? To be honest or to lie?

_ It pointed at the fourth treasure, and glared more fiercely. Hermione was for Victor? A little sad, being as he’d known her maybe three months. Harry turned to look at his hostage and everything seemed to stop.He looked and he looked, but the image stayed the same. The thing he would most miss, the thing that he was supposed to need so badly-  _ **_Draco Malfoy_ ** _. _

Harry had no clue.

  
  



	2. Fixation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken so long. I have the whole story outlined and I'm feeling mentally better so hopefully I can manage about 1 or 2 chapters a week. This skips 5th year, which Harry will mention.

Harry crept out of the portrait hole to the Gryffindor common room under the cloak, under the cloak of darkness- and his literal Invisibility Cloak. He held the Marauder’s Map close to his chest and began to walk down the hallway after his target. He only chanced the use of his wand every few minutes, and only as a light to be sure he was still on the right path. His sock covered feet made little noise on the ground; something he realised after the third attempt to do this. This time would be successful.

He would find out what Draco Malfoy was up to, and stop it if he must. 

Harry suspected that with Malfoy, such action would always be necessary. Whatever Malfoy was up to was somehow connected to Voldemort. Harry was sure of it.

The floor was cold- so cold that Harry could feel it through his socks. Though, he supposed that wasn't much of an accomplishment since his socks were old and threadbare. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and glanced down at the map. Malfoy was walking on the seventh floor, so to the seventh floor Harry must descend. He walked quickly enough to feel his cloak shifting, but not fast enough to disturb it in truth, or to make a sound.

The staircase refused to cooperate and moved too quickly for Harry to get on. He huffed and looked at the map anxiously.  Malfoy had disappeared from the map. Again. 

Harry kicked at the stairs in frustration and turned back towards Gryffindor Tower. Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow.

* * *

 

Harry woke late the next morning. He hadn't slept long, nor had he slept well. Malfoy was constantly on his mind, and had been since the Triwizard tournament- if Harry was being honest. He most certainly wasn't; however; and would tell anyone daring enough to ask that he was not in any way  _ obsessed  _ with Draco Malfoy, but rather had a healthy suspicion of a clearly suspicious acting classmate. He'd done his best in the hectic year following the worst decision the board of governors had made yet- and these were people who approved Lockhart to teach, mind you- in the history of terrible decisions. Dealing with being categorically shunned and constant detentions with Umbridge hadn't given him much time to ponder. But now Malfoy was Obviously Evil, and it was up to Harry, as always, to stop him.

He ran a hand through his hair and winced as his thumb got caught in a knot. He'd been too focused on beating Malfoy to breakfast lately (in order to observe him for suspicious behavior, of course) that he had a significantly better chance of telling you how Malfoy took his tea (two sugars and a significant amount of milk) than when he had last brushed his hair. He sighed. He supposed today he would agree to attend one of Slughorn’s parties. If nothing else, surely Malfoy would be there.

And as Harry wasn't one for honesty, he didn't think that was at all the reason he had decided to go.

Running his fingers through his hair again and trying not to rip anything important out, Harry made his way down to the Great Hall. He had just enough time to make it to lunch a few minutes before the others. He stood outside of the closed doors and blinked.

Or, more accurately, about twenty minutes. But no chances could be taken.

He cursed himself for the information he'd lost.  Malfoy hadn't done anything, yet. But he would. Harry knew that he would, and that the best time for him to do so would be when Harry's eyes were elsewhere. 

He strived to be elsewhere as little as possible.

“Harry, there you are! We thought you'd sleep forever,” Hermione said.

Harry smiled at her, his eyes on the clock just visible behind her.

“Long night,” he said.

“Doing what? What kind of long night could you possibly be having?” Ron asked.

Behind him the door opened as Flitwick walked in.

“Er, I meant...rough night. Listen, I'll see you at lunch. I've got to go,” Harry said. 

He nudged around Hermione as gently as possible before rushing into the Great Hall. There was still about fifteen minutes until lunch, but Harry refused to miss a second of Malfoy’s activity.


	3. Symbols and Steak

The problem Harry had with Slughorn was that the professor was a fundamentally creepy man despite not having a lot of knowledge about the Muggle world, Harry did know that a grown man who wandered about “collecting” children would not fare well. And, yes, it was made a little better by the fact that Slughorn was merely a social climbing opportunity grabber that just as readily spoke with influential adults, but just something about being clapped on the shoulder and invites to a private dinner put Harry on edge.

At least the food at the dinner party in question was delicious, and Hermione was there. Malfoy ;however; was not. Harry was not disappointed, of course, because he was here at Dumbledore’s request.

He looked towards the door. Perhaps he was a little disappointed. He still hadn't been able to catch Malfoy at whatever sinister thing he was surely doing. Harry had hoped Slughorn's boisterous introduction might have given him a hint. As of now, Harry had no leads.

Malfoy never seemed to be around Crabbe and Goyle anymore. He was crafty. Whenever Harry almost caught up with Malfoy during free time he would round the corner only to find assorted Slytherins lounging against the wall, but never even a glimpse of the blond hair that was seared into his memory.

“Harry, what do you think?” Professor Slughorn asked.

Harry frowned and blinked at him. He thought quickly for a way to avoid answering any questions.

“I'm so sorry sir. I'm afraid I've not been paying much attention. You see, I've been waiting for a good time to go to the bathroom,” Harry said apologetically.

“One too many Butterbeers, eh?” Slughorn laughed. 

Hermione gave Harry an odd look. Harry tried to look sheepish and eyed the door.

Slughorn smiled and waved at the door.

“Don't be afraid to do what you have to do. I'm sure that Mr. Long bottom has an answer,” he said.

Hermione reached her hand forward and opened her mouth. Harry quickly left before she could speak. The last thing he saw as he shut the door was her closing her mouth into a frown. He knew she would want to speak to him soon.

He leaned against the door and sighed. Time to go find Malfoy. He reached towards his pocket for the Marauder's map just as a flash of movement caught his eye. In the distance he saw it. Blond hair. Everything that he had just suffered through in Slughorn's party suddenly seemed worth it. He creeped along after Malfoy as fast as he could without making noise or alerting Malfoy that he was being followed.

Harry followed behind Malfoy through several winding hallways and up staircases (which were so difficult to stay hidden on that Harry had to pull out the map and follow much further behind) until suddenly, he stopped moving. Malfoy knelt near the ground and pushed at something. The wall seemed to melt away. Harry leaned forwards in anticipation. Malfoy leaned forwards too, and pressed his hand against the mysterious carvings that covered a large section of the newly revealed wall.   
  
"What could these mean?" Malfoy muttered.   
  
Harry felt as though it was Christmas and Snape had finally given him an O on a paper. This had to be what Malfoy was up to. Whatever these carvings were, they had something to do with how suspicious he had been acting. Perhaps they were a message from Voldemort! Now that Harry knew where to begin looking, he could finally stop the pointy little git.   
  
Malfoy stared at the wall for a long time. Harry shifted his feet forward, and fell. Malfoy's head whipped around and his eyes went wide. Harry started to open his mouth, but before he could think of a brilliant but insidious thing to say to let Malfoy fear Harry knew more than he did, Malfoy turned around and ran.   
  
Harry let out a shout of frustration.   
  
"Coward!" he yelled after Malfoy, though Harry had little hope that he was heard.    
  
He stood up and moved in closer to examine the writings. The surrounding wall was smooth and brown. Harry touched his fingers to a spiralled symbol. It was carved in, or it felt that way. He couldn't read it. There were assorted symbols and squiggles that looked like the sort of thing Harry had seen in Muggle picture books, in the parts where the book characters had their own books to read. The strangest thing about the symbols, was that they almost seemed to pulse when Harry touched them.   
  
Harry sighed and turned towards the hallway and pulled the map from his pocket. It hadn't really been a good idea to be following Malfoy around with the activated map in his pocket, but Harry had been so determined to catch him this time that he didn't hesitate long enough to think of anything else.    
  
Despite the odd, winding path that Malfoy had taken, this hallway was pretty much around the corner from the room of requirement, and Harry knew a faster way back.   
  
"Mischief Managed," Harry said.   
  
Behind him, a small pop could be heard as the wall unmelted back into place. Harry looked at it for a long moment. Maybe it was on a timer. That would make sense, as Harry doubted Voldemort wouldn't think of a plan to safeguard himself if Malfoy failed.   
  
Harry turned back around and took the long way back to Slughorn's.   
  
  


The next day Harry woke early. He ate a handful of mints to save time he would have otherwise wasted in the bathroom, and flicked a cleansing charm over his body before racing down the stairs and towards the portrait hole. The portrait hole that he couldn't climb out of, because Hermione was sleeping in front of it.

Harry reached for his wand and quietly levitated her. She stirred. Harry held his breath.

“Harry?” Hermione said.

She was still sleepy. Harry could perhaps manage..

“Harry! Put me down!” she said a bit louder.

Harry did and flushed red.

“I'm sorry, Hermione but you were in my way..” he said.

She frowned.

“Is that all I am lately, Harry? In your way?” she asked.

“No! Of course not, Hermione. Just.. now, I..” he trailed off and then brightened, “I have to do something for Dumbledore and I promise I'll explain when I can.”

Her face softened slightly, but she still looked sceptical and upset.

“I'm sorry, Hermione, I've got to go,” he said.

Harry walked past her and briskly headed towards the corridor Malfoy had led him to yesterday. 

Malfoy wasn't there, though Harry wasn't sure why he'd expected him to be. He fumbled around on the floor until well past breakfast, but could not for the life of him find what Malfoy had pressed to open the wall.

He sat against the damned thing and put his head between his knees. He didn't know how long he sat there, and was not aware of anything until he heard the tapping of angry feet in front of him. He looked up to see Ron holding the map and Hermione glaring down at him with her arms crossed.

“We need to talk,” she said.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit clunky but it's important to the plot

“Alright, talk,” Ron said once they were safely ensconced in the Room of Requirement.

Harry looked at him in shock. Ron had never been so blunt with him.

“Mate,” Harry said.

“No. Harry you've been, you've been self destructing for weeks now and I can't-” Ron said.

Hermione gripped Ron's shoulder and Harry swallowed.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly.

“Harry, we're  _ worried _ . We've been nothing but worried for weeks. I let it go on too long,” Hermione said.

“You rarely even shower, mate. Those spells might do it, but it's never as good as doing it yourself,” Ron added.

Harry looked down at Ron's knee caps. He always found them quite grounding, they were perfectly symmetrical and a bit bony.

Ron let out a small, defeated sound.

“I'm so sorry,” he said.

Harry looked up.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“I failed you,” Ron said.

Harry shook his head and Hermione cleared her throat.

“Why are you so determined to catch Malfoy in wrongdoing?” Hermione asked.

“He's a Death Eater, I'm sure of it,” Harry replied.

“I checked his arm myself, mate,” Ron said.

Harry paused. He hadn't known that Ron had taken him seriously enough to do that. It seemed as if both of his friends had forgotten what they saw in Diagon Alley and were determined to pretend Malfoy didn't exist at all. 

“When did-” he said.

“The third day, in Potions. We were in the supply closet and I pretended to trip so I could pull his cloak off,” Ron said.

Hermione looked surprised.

“Yeah, well, I can be helpful sometimes,” he said.

Harry reached forward and pulled Ron into his arms. Ron was stiff in surprise, and quite possibly confusion for they had not hugged before. Harry held him tight and pressed his face into Ron's shoulder.

“What was that for?” Ron asked, his face red.

Hermione stood beside him, amused.

“I should have trusted you, both of you,” Harry said.

Hermione nodded.

Harry didn't say that perhaps Malfoy had been left unmarked for that exact reason. He didn't mention the things that he had discovered, nor that having a specific lead meant he wouldn't need to be quite as obsessive as before anyway. His friends had suffered enough because of him, and they would benefit to believe they had fixed him. But Harry could not rest until he knew why Malfoy was in that hallway, or what the markings said, or even why Malfoy had been his “lost thing” two years ago. He was certain it was all connected together and to Voldemort. So he simply promised to eat more, and bathe, and brush his hair, and not to skip another day of class fumbling around on the floor in some hallway. 

He figured that would be enough to soothe their minds.

* * *

 

It didn't take long for Harry to solve at least one of his mysteries. The following week, he went out again to the hallway. This time he waited for Malfoy to leave his dorm after hours, so as to have some clue on how to open the thing. 

He knew Malfoy wouldn't be much help after that, because his mutterings before had led Harry to believe it was his first or second time viewing the carvings, and that all he had been told was how to access them. Perhaps Voldemort got off on giving out impossible tasks.

Harry got to the corridor first. He opened his map again and whispered the words to activate it. Malfoy was a floor away. Harry looked in front of him. The wall was a shimmering white. There were no longer carvings, but in their place was words. Actual, readable words. Harry stared at it as long as he could manage. Perhaps during one of his “extra lessons” he could persuade Dumbledore to allow him use of the pensieve. Then he looked at the ground, frantically searching for a raised or lowered section. He must have stepped on something as he rushed towards the wall. 

His eyes glanced down at the map. He paced the hallway frantically and muttered “mischief managed” in an attempt to close it. He must have managed it because the dim light of his wand reflecting on the wall died. He looked up and saw he hadn't been fast enough.

“Potter,” Malfoy said.

“Malfoy,” he replied.

A pressure was building in his chest, like a mischievous panic. What had he seen?

“You know how to open it,” Malfoy said.

Harry froze. He glared at Malfoy.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Clearly I don't know, yet, Potter. But I will,” Malfoy said.

“And how do you plan to do that?” he asked.

“You're going to tell me,” Malfoy said plainly.

Harry shook his head. 

“Never,” he said.

He turned and, forgoing his dignity, he ran.


End file.
